


Alternate Plotline: Not The End

by Prismatic Bell (Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: I thought some people reading the main fic might like it that's all, M/M, Pointless fluff, abandoned fic piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor/pseuds/Prismatic%20Bell
Summary: When I first started Not The End, it was plotted to go in a very different direction than where it's actually gone. The segment posted here is from the original, abandoned plotline, and no longer fits the timeline that's already been written and published.But while people are waiting for the next meaty bit of plot, I thought I might as well post this for people to enjoy. Have some tooth-rotting fluff.





	Alternate Plotline: Not The End

“I wasn't sure you'd be back.”

“Your friend told me I shouldn't be here. That I was breaking the rules.”

“And yet somehow that's never stopped you before.” Atem steps onto the roof ledge and looks out. The stars are breathtaking, something Kaiba's never seen in a life of running from city to city to metropolis and now uninterrupted by even the slightest pinprick of electric light, but Atem seems more focused on the glints of moonlight reflected in the Nile.

“You said I lived here once. That I was your . . . ”

“Priest. Friend. Successor. Yes.”

“That's it?”

There's a vague note of mischief in Atem's voice, and he drops to sitting so quickly Kaiba feels his heart stop until he's sure Atem is in one piece. “I could add 'constant source of entertainment,' but somehow I feel you'd be insulted.”

“What was it you were just saying? Somehow that's never stopped you before?”

Atem smiles and says nothing. Kaiba just looks up.

“I wonder how long it'd take to code this.”

“Do you ever think of anything but technology?”

Kaiba looks over. “Do you know how much I would've loved something like this as a night light when I was a kid? You keep assuming there's no art or 'magic' in science. Science _is_ art. It's taking the fabric of the universe and making it into something other people can use. You take medicine, that's science. You make a fire, that's science. Magic is science we haven't managed to codify rules for yet. That's why I knew there had to be a way to get to you. The Millennium Puzzle isn't magic. It's science.”

Now he's sure Atem is looking at him. His smile is wide enough to show a hint of teeth. “I didn't know you were so passionate about it.”

“You never asked.”

Atem leans back. Kaiba feels the heel of Atem's hand, cool and rough, come to rest on the backs of his fingers, and thinks about pulling away—even dead and sitting in a spirit world Atem has weight—and then decides not to. Instead he tries to identify the constellations he still remembers from exams. They're harder to see, obscured by a thousand pinpricks of light he's never seen before and the light from the Milky Way. 

“I should let you go.”

There's more to it than just saying Kaiba needs to sleep; even layered between pieces of Atem's diplomacy and his own inability to dance around words he knows that much, and when Atem stands up to walk away Kaiba grabs his wrist. 

“We were adopted when I was nine. Our—the man who adopted us, he was looking for the perfect heir, not a kid. I was in classes sixteen hours a day, trying to get me up to college level in a year. When I finally made it he put me in piano. It's something a lot of really aggressive parents do, making their kid take an instrument. It's supposed to teach discipline. I'd been at it about a year when he told me to play something for him to hear. I think it's the only time I remember him ever being anything close to impressed, because I picked something considered advanced-intermediate and made it all the way through with no mistakes. He said maybe a really good tutor could make something out of even me. And then I said something personal about my teacher—that he had a wonderful smile.”

“And he punished you for it?”

Kaiba keeps his eyes on the water. _Talk to him if he's worth it,_ Mokuba said, and the kid has a good point, but talking has never been his strong point. It's hard. It opens up a thousand weaknesses, tiny and large. 

“No.” _Get it over with. Either he'll walk away or he won't. You can't control what he does, only how you react to it._ “He made Mokuba strip and burned his back with a cigar until I said I was lying. The whole time I was trying to take over KaibaCorp, that was the only time I sold a share. I didn't get an allowance and I was terrified if Mokuba healed with scars the skin would shrink when he got older and he wouldn't be able to use his arms. I had to buy burn cream. It probably set me back three months, getting us out from under his thumb.”

The breath Atem draws in is so sharp and sudden Kaiba almost wonders if he's spontaneously decided to start having vital signs again. Then he drops to one knee and sweeps an arm around Kaiba's shoulders, so quickly Kaiba allows the hug out of pure surprise. 

“You did the right thing.”

He twitches away from Atem's arms. “Well. Now you know why I don't get involved with people. I have Mokuba to protect. He'd tell you he's fourteen now and he thinks he can face down the entire world on his own, but fourteen . . . that's _nothing_.”

“I know.” Atem holds out a hand. “You were fourteen, weren't you? When you finally took things into your own hands?”

Kaiba looks at the hand, a dark shape under glimmering gold, wondering what will happen if he takes it. He already knows what will happen if he won't. 

Atem's hands are small, petite enough Kaiba wonders how he gets anything done weighed down by gold rings and amulets and bands. Certainly he shouldn't be fast enough to take the hand Kaiba tentatively puts in his and envelop it in both of his own before Kaiba has a chance to react. Instead he just stares down at their fingers, Atem's encircling his like a setting for a stone. 

“Mokuba doesn't know who you are. But he told me to talk to you.”

“You should listen to him more often.”

“I have to be there for him. I fucked up pretty badly this year. I can't do it again.”

“I understand.”

_You're making the biggest mistake of your life._

And it might be true, but the mistake has soft lips and a warm smile, and instead of pulling away Atem rests one of those rough hands on Kaiba's cheek and caresses it.

_Oh, I'm fucked._

“You might want to breathe.”

There's a moment where he thinks Atem is mocking him, and then he realizes: no, even here he has basic human needs like air, and if Atem doesn't actually say so they might both forget for entirely too long. 

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Good idea.” 

He's ready to get to his feet and make some noncommittal statement about going home before Mokuba burns the place down trying to make a late-night snack when Atem puts his hands on Kaiba's face again. There's almost certainly a word for the contrast between smooth, icy gold and callused nearly-warm skin, and he might be able to think of it under other circumstances, but not these; all he can come up with, nonsensical and out of place, is _home_.

“Your obligations don't need to turn you into a martyr.”

The second time he closes his eyes, rests his hand on Atem's arm, slides his fingers into a thick nest of curls, and gives up—gives up trying to have the upper hand, to pretend he's detached and objective.

No, there's a mouth pressed against his that's warm and soft and welcoming, and plenty of space between their bodies to fill, but that's fine; for now, this might be what he can handle, Atem's mouth and adoring hands not pulling away.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Comments? Prayers wailed to the vortex of space? Leave them below.


End file.
